I'm So Scared
by Pip's Sister
Summary: *F/F SLASH* Gwen regrets a rash decision...


Title: I'm So Scared  
Author: Pip's Sister/Ms. Marvel 1  
Fandom: Spider-Man  
Pairings: Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy, Mary Jane Watson/Gwen Stacy  
Rating: R for semi-explicit m/f and f/f sex.  
Archive: Yes, but tell me beforehand.  
E-Mail: felicitypirrip@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: Gwen Stacy, Mary Jane Watson, George Stacy, Peter Parker/Spider-Man are all property of Marvel Comics and are used without permission for non-profit purposes. Everyone else is mine.  
  
Notes: This is an AU story taking place some time between the death of George Stacy and Gwen Stacy's journey to England. Yes, this is femslash. Don't like it? Don't flame. I just laugh. I also realize that this fanfic tells very little. Well, I may write a companion piece from MJ's point of view sometime and if I do that will tell you more. But until then, enjoy this. :-)  
  
~*~*~  
  
Ever have one of those days when in the span of only a few seconds or minutes your whole life changes? A day when you wake up in the morning to find that everything is normal but by the time you go to bed, nothing is the same.  
  
Well, it happened to me.  
  
I'm so scared.  
  
My hand shakes as I pour my tea. Bright red letters on the clock radio read 4:15 a.m. I have a class in the morning. I should be asleep, but I just can't close my eyes. My nerves are jumping. I can't stop shivering.  
  
For a moment I wish Dad was still here but that's a selfish hope. Even if he was here, how could I tell him? How could I tell my own father what I did?  
  
How could I tell anyone what I did?  
  
I pull my robe closed and open my fridge. God, they all brought so much food for the funeral. Poor thing is as crowded as Lady Liberty during a holiday weekend. How did anyone think we'd all eat this much?  
  
And the desserts! Oh, it makes me mad. Everyone makes about twenty different desserts and most of them have families of their own. But do they take them home? Oh no! Please leave all of the fattening trash with the single woman who couldn't possibly eat all this without ballooning up to 200 pounds! Yeah, that makes sense.  
  
That's what I thought. At least until I realized that in the course of four days I'd already eaten most of the good stuff.  
  
Damn it. I've tried to cut back (I really have) but I still gained at least ten pounds. Peter says he doesn't notice but he might just be putting me…  
  
Oh, God. Peter. He's the last thing I want to think about now.  
  
I'm so scared.  
  
I reach for the mediocre store-brought brownies, then figure if I'm going to get fat I might as well eat something enjoy. Four fifteen in the mourning is an odd time for a sandwich but I'll eat what I like, as that TV commercial says.  
  
Roast beef. Cheese. Pull a couple of leaves off the lettuce head. Would get a tomato, but if I just cut off a few pieces the whole thing will get dry and disgusting within a few days. Plate. Bread. Toasted? Nah, no time. Spread mayonnaise on the bread. Lick the knife and take in 50 unnecessary calories. Clean up. Get tea. Sit down at my table in the dead of night with no one here but my own thoughts.  
  
All alone.  
  
I'm so scared.  
  
I wipe the tears from my eyes. I can almost feel how red and puffy they are. My lipstick is probably still smeared across my face. I haven't combed my hair.  
  
It's my fault. It's my own fault.  
  
Oh God! How could I have done this to him? How could I have done this to me?  
  
I know why I did it. It's the same reason for why I do everything. Why I'm scared all the time. Why I've gained ten pounds. Why I haven't been talking to Peter.  
  
Dad.  
  
I do it because I can't get over Dad.  
  
It's not fair, you know. Dad was a good-a great man. The way he saved that boy… how he jumped in front of the falling debris with no care at all for himself. It breaks my heart.  
  
What hurts me too is Spider-Man. I… I don't understand it. I remember that one time when the Kingpin brainwashed my father and tried to kill the two of us. Spider-Man was there. He and Mr. Osborn saved us both.  
  
Now this? The man who was my savior became my father's murderer? Why? What made him change like that? What could make any man change from a savior into a murderer?  
  
I feel betrayed. After Spider-Man saved me, I considered him a legitimate hero and protector. I didn't always like how he wore that mask, but I still trusted him as I would trust a member of the police force. If I ever knew who he was, I would have thanked him a thousand times for all he had done for my father and me.  
  
Now this?  
  
How could he?  
  
If only I knew the real story, but all I've heard from is "Capture Spider-Man!" and "Kill the Murderer!" Nobody seems to know what really happened or why. Is there no way of knowing or do they just not care?  
  
Peter's constant chasing of Spider-Man is no help. Dad was so obsessed with Spider-Man, so driven to find out who he was, and now I'm in love with a man who's after him too?  
  
You can really pick 'em, can't you Gwendy?  
  
I do love Peter. No doubt about that. Just… why does he have to chase Spider-Man? Not even Dad went looking for trouble in his days as a policeman. Yet that's exactly what Peter does. It scares me. It really scares me. Can't he see it's not worth it?  
  
You know, usually I can look past it. When I see Peter again, I will. Now though, after what happened with Dad. It… it just got to be too much.  
  
Peter and I haven't seen much of each other these days. I miss him so much. I miss the feeling of his arms around me. The kisses of his lips. His heart beating against my own as we made passionate love long into the night. Oh, why can't he be with me? Is that too much to ask? I wouldn't need him to do anything, to say anything. Just to be here. Just the sight of his golden eyes, his handsome face. All that. That and the feeling of how much he loves me. That would do worlds for me.  
  
Yet with his work, he's as good as gone.  
  
I'm so scared.  
  
What I did makes no sense. If I loved him so much how could I have… how could I even thought of…  
  
Oh God.  
  
I've felt… I've been so alone ever since Dad died. Sure, people have called me, offering their sympathies, but nobody's really called me to go out to dinner or to anything fun. Then again, I've been so secluded these days I'm not quite sure I would have gone, even with an invitation.  
  
When Mary Jane called me up I tried to turn her away. I'm busy. I have to study. But anyone who knows Mary Jane knows that once she gets an idea in that red head of hers, well, you're just in for it, especially when it comes to having fun.  
  
She came late in the night. I let her in reluctantly. I thought that maybe if I just watched TV or talked with her awhile, she'd be pacified and get this "cheer up Gwen" idea out of her head.  
  
But Mary Jane was far from content to do something so simple. From the minute she arrived she was bouncing from the stereo to the TV, joking about the bad music or the absurdity of some badly written sitcom. And if she wasn't finding ways to make me laugh, she was finding ways to make me eat, usually a bit of the ice cream or beer she brought over.  
  
Oh, I resisted at first, rebuking all of her attempts at making me laugh or smile. However, as MJ's taunts and jokes became more persistent, I softened. Before I knew it, I taunting and joking right along with her.  
  
After I loosened up, allowed myself to let go, the night was great. We indulged in everything I refused a short while ago. We ate the whole gallon of ice cream and drank the full six-pack, danced to the radio together, and teased each other incessantly. I felt like a 12-year-old at a sleepover. Everything we did was so simple, yet meant so much to me.  
  
I felt happier than I'd been in ages. I hadn't felt so much joy since the day Peter and I first started dating. I was in love. In love with the atmosphere. In love with the fun. In love with…  
  
Her?  
  
I put the thought out of my mind at first. No, no, that was ridiculous. I already had a boyfriend. A good boyfriend who I loved very much and was kind to me and was never around and I'm so mad that he's never there for me I need him at this time doesn't he realize how… no, no. I couldn't be in love with her.  
  
I didn't love women, but… but then again there was Alice.  
  
Alice. The only woman I'd ever fallen in love with.  
  
I met her at a religious retreat. My boyfriend Jake cheated on me before I left. I tried to hide my sadness, but the hurt still weighed heavy on my heart.  
  
Yet from the moment I sat next to Alice during the prayer service, I started to feel better. When I told her about my problems, she seemed to understand perfectly. Any time I felt bad about Jake, she would find some way to cheer me up. Maybe I was just being overly sentimental, but for the short time we were together, I was in love with her. Whenever I was with her, I wanted to hug her, kiss her. I dreamed of her at night with the two of us as lovers. I never saw or spoke to her after the retreat, but I still remember her fondly.  
  
I always wondered what would have happened if Alice and I were ever more than that. What if I asked her? What if she said yes? What if we kissed? What if we hugged? What if we…?  
  
Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the old grief. Maybe it was my newfound joy. I don't know. I can't know. All I know is that I stuttered over my words as I asked her, my palms sweating, my flesh cold. And I know the incredible surprise and horror I felt when she answered "yes."  
  
It was magic at first. Mary Jane said she only did this twice with a woman, but I think even a woman who did this one million times could not have been a better teacher. She was so kind and gentle yet she was never patronizing. She might have had full control, but under that control I never felt weak.  
  
Dear God, I savored every moment. I sighed as she kissed me again and again. I moaned in pleasure and agony as her soft fingers pinched my breasts. My gasps filled the room as I felt her tongue inside me, slowly pushing in and out.  
  
I loved it. I loved it and I loved her.  
  
She kissed me gently before she dropped off to sleep. I thought about us. Maybe this was right. Maybe I really loved her all along. She was very pretty, and she was actually around. Maybe we were supposed to make it. I fell asleep peacefully, dreaming a dream of hope.  
  
The dream didn't last.  
  
What was she thinking when I didn't say a thing to her in the morning? I didn't even look at her when she left for home. Was she upset? Was she hurt? She must have been hurt. Yet I never knew, I never cared.  
  
All I could think about was myself.  
  
I did a horrible thing.  
  
Although I loved, and still love, my friend dearly I just couldn't go through with it.  
  
I couldn't sit down with Mary Jane that morning, or any morning, and plan our future. I couldn't walk the streets with her on my arm, introducing her to friends and family as my girlfriend. And, most of all, I couldn't tell Peter.  
  
I couldn't tell Peter that I cheated on him.  
  
I'm so scared.  
  
And do you want to know why? I'm scared because I didn't think I could ever do something like this.  
  
I remember how much it hurt when Jake cheated on me. How, when I felt that hurt myself, could I do it to someone else? I always thought I'd never be afraid of who I was. Now when I finally explore my bisexuality, my first instinct is to hide it. I swore I'd never hurt the ones I love.  
  
Now I've hurt two of them.  
  
I'm done with my sandwich now. I leave the plate and knife in the sink with all the other dirty dishes. Another tear slides down my cheek as I turn off the light and head to bed.  
  
Oh, Peter. Oh, Mary Jane. I love you both so much. I'm so, so, sorry. I never wanted to keep anything from you. But Peter, you'll never know what I did. And Mary Jane, you'll never know how I really felt.  
  
You'll never know that I did love you.  
  
I'm sorry. I made a mistake.  
  
Now I don't know what to do.  
  
I'm so scared.  
  
The End. 


End file.
